


No Need to Hold Back

by dendrite_blues



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bruce Banner, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Finger Sucking, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Manhandling, PWP, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scratching, Sex Pollen, Spanking, Subspace, Top Thor (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 04:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues/pseuds/dendrite_blues
Summary: To say that Bruce’s second time with Thor is a disappointment would be a bit harsh. Because he’s not doing anything wrong, exactly. He's just not doing it right.-Fill for the kink meme prompt: Bruce/Any, facesitting, rough sex, spanking, mild D/sBruce likes it rough, but he's shy about asking for it because he doesn't want his partners to worry about him Hulking out.





	No Need to Hold Back

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a change of pace, so I went kink meme auditing. Couldn't believe this prompt was never filled since 2015. Like, it's so basic??? So I did it. Poof! Magic.

To say that Bruce’s second time with Thor is a disappointment would be a bit harsh. Because he’s not doing anything wrong, exactly. He just isn’t doing it right.

By most people’s standards the god of hammers is a catch, and on an intellectual level Bruce knows he hit the jackpot. The fingers easinginto him are skillful and patient. The lips on his neck are doing all the right things. But it doesn't scratch the itch like the first time. It's too soft, too careful.

The first time, now that was bliss. Bruce thought he’d fallen asleep on the Quinjet and had a really vivid wet dream. The Avengers had been called in to put down another one of Loki’s not-fully-thought-out schemes. It seemed pretty standard until every adult in a five mile radius started fucking like bunnies.

Bruce, surprisingly, hadn’t been all that affected. Given that self-control is essentially his superpower, it fell to him to find the alien plant with the unfortunate pollen that Thor’s brother had hidden in Central Park. And when that was taken care of, it fell to him as the bio-organics expert to cure the… victims. Which turned out to be Thor, since all the other Avengers had simply paired off and taken care of themselves.

Thor’s reluctance to partake seemed out of character. He’d never been shy about any other physical need. Bruce vividly remembers Thor’s first experience with jeans, when he loudly declared that Midgardian pants did not give his genitals adequate space. Also, the time he excused himself from a briefing because he 'required new underwear after a farting mishap.' Years of working together had proven Thor utterly free of inhibitions. Yet when the opportunity, um, _arose_ he’d quietly stepped away to cool his head.

Only later, when the god was tucked away in Bruce’s lab, did he admit that he feared he might lose control of his strength in the act. Tony had laughed from behind the Hulk-proof glass, like he thought it was preposterous. Bruce tolerated his friend's caustic humor like he always did, but privately he understood Thor's reservation. Respected it, even. With the Hulk lurking underneath every mildly negative emotion, Bruce knew that fear very well.

So he came up with a plan. Sedate Thor into a pleasant haze, shoot him up with hormones to control the side effects, and allow him beat off until the pollen waned. Possibly watch him through the one way window, if he's willing to put up with Tony razzing him. Because Tony watches all the security footage and there would be razzing. Significant, long-term razzing.

What actually happened was a lot less PG. When Bruce went into the lab to administer the shot, Thor lost control. He’d grabbed Bruce by the hair and slammed him on the stainless steel worktop like he weighed nothing. Had eased the way with some kind of oil he had in his belt, and drove into his ass while he was still tight and not quite ready. It was heaven, although Bruce didn’t have the words to tell him at the time.

The fear, the pleasure, the immovable hand on the back of his neck holding him down. It all coalesced into the most exquisite high. Like floating, except that he couldn’t move an inch unless Thor wanted him to, unless he picked Bruce up by the arms and moved his body himself.

It had been years, god so many years, since someone had taken him the way he craved. Since he got to lay helpless and struggle against the rough slaps of a cock in his ass. It hurt, but the pain was thrilling. A fire in his blood that he couldn’t risk with a normal human. Thor wasn’t human though. He could go toe to toe with the Hulk, hell he’d be thrilled. In his less confident moments, he worries Thor might actually enjoy that more than sex.

So it was a good experience. Thor plowed him for what seemed like hours, godlike stamina keeping him erect even after he’d come twice. By the end Bruce's legs felt like taffy. He was covered in sweat and panting, loose and sated as his cock dripped come on the floor. Sloppy, sore, and utterly satisfied. A tension he hadn’t known was there evaporated as Thor wrapped him up in his lab coat and carried him to his suite. He woke up alone, and determined to bed the God of Thunder again.

Which is why it’s such a let down after weeks of dropping hints, and objects, and finally trousers, to find that Thor isn’t normally so authoritative in the sack. There’s no denying he’s a stallion, with that hair and that body. Those soft eyes that see everything and quietly try to understand.

But that’s not what he’s been imagining in the shower every morning for nearly a month. He's been fantasizing about big thumbs on his pulse and cold metal biting his nipples. A bristly beard scratching his thighs red while plush lips cradle his cock.

That's not what this is. But now that he’s here, buck naked and sitting on Thor’s junk, he can’t exactly back out. Again, there’s nothing wrong with his technique. It just doesn’t white out his brain like he needs, doesn’t fill him with the conflicting pull of _yes, no, yes, no, harder, please_.

The eye contact wigs him out too, because paradoxically he doesn’t want Thor to notice he’s not really feeling it. Despite his withering excitement, he still wants to do it again. Because maybe Thor just isn’t in the mood today. Maybe next time he will be.

If there’s any chance Bruce will take it. There aren’t very many people he can trust to tame the Hulk single handed, and Thor is the most attractive option by far. Now that he has a taste he can’t leave it alone, can’t go back to his previously happy celibacy.

So he sighs internally and fucks himself on Thor’s cock, even though he’s only half hard and really un-enthused about doing all the work. He goes with the flow for a few minutes and tolerates Thor’s gentle words of appreciation and his not-nearly-enough squeezes to Bruce’s ass.

Then he forgets to avoid the eye contact, and those blue eyes meet his. Thor’s eyebrows lower, and his mouth pouts like thinking is very difficult. He puts his hand on Bruce’s hip when he starts the next thrust, and stills his own upward movements.

“Don't take offense if I'm wrong-” Thor says cautiously, “but I don't think you're enjoying this.”

Bruce feels so exposed, sitting over Thor with his arms all over the place and his wilted dick on display for God and everyone. He can hardly lie.

“Yeah, not really.” Bruce admits, wincing. Awaiting the inevitable hurt feelings.

Thor angles his head on the pillow, a sheepish look wrinkling his nose. “Would you prefer something else?”

Bruce would _prefer_ to have his knees bent to his shoulders and a hand spanking his ass until he screamed.

“I, uh, like to be-” Bruce clears his throat, motioning with his hands.

“Penetrating?” Thor asks shamelessly.

It’s not so much the word as the delivery that makes Bruce cover his eyes with his hand. His face was dotted with acne the last time he had an active sex life. He’s pretty rusty.

“Underneath.” he replies lamely, wiping his palm down his face. “Like, held down and, uh, you know.”

“Oh.” Thor rumbles, his face lighting up, “As we did before?”

“If you don’t mind... I know you have some hang ups.”

Thor leans on his elbows, his short hair sticking up in the back. “I don’t mind. Although I probably should. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. Only... I’ve been told I get a bit-"

“Rough?” Bruce interrupts, and realizes too late that he sounds hopeful.

Thor fake coughs, and his lip quirks in an unreasonably charming grin. He looks like a model in a cologne ad with his rolling muscles and understated confidence. Vividly, Bruce imagines those big arms picking him up by the knees and lifting him on and off his cock like an oversized sex toy.

“Handsy.” Thor says, tugging at his earlobe. “I like to hit and scratch.”

Oh boy, now he’s picturing Thor doing that _one handed_ while his other hand chokes Bruce and slaps his face. His eyes slide shut, his groin twitching around the rush of arousal. Thor drags his nails down Bruce’s back, digging deep and sharp into the meat of his ass.

Bruce grunts, and Thor makes a similar sound under him. His hips thrust deeper when Bruce clenches around him, and as if by magic he’s finally getting hard. The friction burns, tight around Thor’s big, heavy cock and it’s exactly what he needs.

“You’ll have to tolerate a little more niceness. You’re too tight for that kind of rutting.” Thor rumbles, pulling out and rolling so he’s crouched over Bruce. There’s nothing subtle about the way Bruce’s dick leaks from that deep, sinful voice, or the way he gasps when firm hands shove his ankles over his head.

The first lick to his rim makes him flinch and clench even tighter. It’s so intimate, so dirty. He cleaned himself earlier, but he can’t help the wild fear that something unpleasant might come out. Thor doesn’t seem to share his concerns, he licks Bruce’s hole with sloppy, wet strokes and teasing, light circles of tongue.

Bruce holds his own legs back, and feels his breath puff against his knees. His pulse pounds in his ears. Warring sparks of pleasure and unease make him feel high, and drive his brain into the quiet place where he doesn’t have to think.

Thor groans, mumbling words Bruce can’t make out. The touch of soft lips to his perineum does things to him, turns his brain to goop and leaves him longing for thick fingers to plunge in and claim him.

By some miracle, Thor reads his mind and does just that. His digits are slick with the kind of thick, pasty lube that doesn’t dry out and Bruce slips a bit further down. That lube means a long session, means Thor wants to go and go without stopping to reapply.

The stretch is agonizing, not because it hurts but because it doesn’t. His mind feels like chunky soup, and the endless teasing makes him green around the ears. He tips his head up to complain, and Thor meets his frustrated growl with a fierce, wolfish smile.

“I would welcome the beast, if it should happen. Do not hold back.” Thor whispers.

“I think the NYPD would rather I did.” Bruce says, the last few words trailing off into a groan when Thor abruptly plunges two fingers all the way in at once. Although he craves the abuse, his body instinctively tries to retreat. Its pointless. He can’t escape from the iron grip Thor has on him. Even so he enjoys the struggle, because for once he knows he can.

The squeeze of his fingers is so good, the hold unshakable and inhuman in its strength. It doesn’t matter what Bruce wants, he’s powerless. There’s virtually nothing he can do to stop Thor, whether he wants to fuck Bruce or kill him he’d be equally helpless. And for some reason that makes him hot, makes his dick rock hard and desperate for more.

He’s been talking this entire time, although he isn’t sure what he’s been saying. The tiny portion of his brain that’s still working is absorbed in Thor’s ridiculously thick fingers pulling him apart.

It takes an eternity, but eventually Thor is satisfied. He turns Bruce to his belly and drags his ass up until it’s level with his cock. Those amazing, strong hands yank their hips flush and Thor drags his cock over Bruce’s balls and along his crease so he can feel just how long and stiff it is.

“Do you struggle?” Thor rasps, pressing the tip to Bruce’s rim and holding.

Words are hard to find, even harder to say. His lips open and close while he tries to obey and fails. An open hand slams against his ass, centered squarely on his right cheek and he yelps.

“Yeah-ow. That hurts.” Bruce whines, gripping the sheets.

”That is the idea.” Thor says lightly, and smacks him just as hard on the other side. The flush seems to dull the pain, his hammering heart and flooding endorphins dampening the sensation into something addictive and not enough.

Thor gathers Bruce's arms and crosses them behind his back. He lays his hand over them and pushes down with his considerable weight. Bruce groans, pinned in place and so, so ready for Thor to split him open.

“You're strong-” Bruce slurs.

Thor chuckles, “I did warn you. Now let’s see what you can take.”

The barely-there brush of fingers on his crease is the only warning he gets. The push of Thor’s cock on his hole is like a religious experience. Even after all that prep it’s too much, well over the line into actual pain and Bruce can’t get enough. He pushes back once the head pops through his rim, and Thor growls. The pressure on his arms doubles, and Thor’s free hand shoves Bruce’s face into the mattress. The tips of his fingers invade his mouth, force it open. He gags and they only drive deeper.

These fingers were in his ass, he realizes, suddenly drowning in shame as the thought makes his hole clench tighter and his dick leak even more precome. Filthy, disgusting, and just what he needs. Just the edge of illicitness that makes his guts roll with fire and want. The fingers plunge down his throat and he moans happily, half suffocating on the bed sheets and drooling like some mindless animal.

With one hard snap Thor plunges in to the hilt, and Bruce wails. He’s pinned at two points, and that only makes him want it harder. The pain and pleasure mix and drive him out of his mind, to that wild place he doesn’t ever let himself go. It’s an emotional release, the brutal rhythm and the wounded animal noises that spill from his lips on every thrust.

Thor’s fingers muffle the noise, but that just makes it dirtier. A symbol of his complete control over Bruce’s body, his ability to do whatever he wants with him. Even Bruce’s voice is being touched and changed, and it’s with that thought that he stops thinking.

Sensations wash over him slower, deeper. The pain stops hurting. Everything feels good, whether it’s the brush of Thor's cock on his prostate or the clenching ache of his hand leaving marks on his bruised ass. The very core of him hungers for more, more, more and when the pounding stops all he feels is horrible despair. No, please, not yet, not enough.

Thor’s face solidifies out of the fog, and then the fingers pull his mouth wide open. Oh, yes, he’d like that. Warm flesh slides in his mouth, and it tastes sour. Thor came? Well that’s good, that means Bruce did well. The cock goes deep and he almost gags, has to pull his head away and Thor slides back out. He grips Bruce’s hair, and tells him to put his hand where his limit is. That’s not so hard to figure out, and once he complies Thor pounds into his mouth.

Shameful excitement rises up, and he sucks harder, licks lovingly at the head and hums. Thor slaps him on the cheek and his vision whites out. At first he’s shocked, doesn’t know what to think of it. Then it happens again and something primal and irrational inside him thinks yes, yes, more. Thor slides out of his mouth and Bruce gasps, dizzy with the return of oxygen while his partner re-positions them. When he comes back his cock is upside down, and that’s confusing until a hot mouth slides down Bruce’s dick and the pleasure whites him out again.

The lips on his length are soft and warm, and when they suck he sees stars. It’s incredible, and overwhelming, and the whole time Thor’s hips keep plowing down his throat and splitting him open. Thor's hands are everywhere, slapping and squeezing and scratching deep red lines down his body. He comes like a vase crashing to the floor. The moment Thor starts sucking, it’s inevitable, but the exact number of pieces, the way he breaks apart is a mystery until it happens. Thor sucks him through his orgasm, one hand still tight on his jaw and holding him in place while rams his cock down Bruce's throat.

Every part of him feels disconnected and euphoric. For those few blissful moments, he doesn’t have to worry about getting angry and green. He doesn’t have to think about the consequences of his lapse, he just gets to float in this filthy, sloppy climax. Thor comes again, warm stripes of white painting Bruce’s cheek and jaw, and that’s an entirely different kind of satisfaction. Proof of a job well done.

Although he’s not generally a swallower, he finds himself strangely amenable when it’s accompanied by Thor’s fingers dragging on his tongue. He patiently licks until it’s all gone and feels delightfully filthy. Thor picks him up, and the next thing he knows he’s surrounded by warm water and nice smelling soap.

Callused hands stroke up his body and spread his cheeks in a way that feels bizarrely invasive despite what they just did. His hole is tender, and the care with which Thor’s fingers reach back inside to clean up the mess brings tears to his eyes.

Overwhelmed, he hides his face in Thor’s neck. His partner doesn’t comment, he just continues pulling Bruce gently back. Vaguely, in the back of his sex drunk mind, Bruce knows he will never have words to describe how grateful he is for that silent acceptance. How ridiculously whole he feels with those fingers soothing his aches.

The one consolation for that failure of the English language, is that it seems to go both ways. When he meets Thor’s eye, he seems just as flabbergasted and incoherent.

He can’t say when exactly, or how he will find the words to ask for it, but there will definitely be a third time. And a fourth. And maybe a lot, lot more.


End file.
